It’s time…to give zero fucks

It’s time…to give zero fucks

Welcome one, welcome all — if you need a quick and dirty overview about the new blog format and content, have a visit here to get to know how this shit will go down. I even have a new web address: www.mysarcasticlife.com. If you’ve been following me, and, even more, if you actually KNOW me, you know that I have had my fair share of bullshit over the past couple of years. From dating, to fucked up work situations, to…well…actually, those are the only two things that consumed a large chunk of my time in 2015/16…And whereas I normally come off as this strong, independent, put-together, individual who can conquer the world with my pinky finger…those two major aspects of my life nearly brought me to my knees at times. It wasn’t pretty. But some major lessons were learned…

So, in light of all the crap-tastic things that I’ve had to endure from both a professional and personal standpoint, I’ve done some deep soul-searching. I’ve learned some very valuable lessons that have now set me in a direction of…well…who the fuck knows (that’s one of the lessons. Hold tight. I’ll get to that). Because after an extreme amount of horrific and heart-wrenching dating experiences and professional setbacks, re-direction is necessary. So here goes.

Lesson 1: Give zero fucks ALWAYS.

The end

KIDDING!!!!! (sort of).
But really – I used to define myself as being this strong-willed, independent, free-spirited gal who could handle anything with the grace and dignity of someone who looked like they had their shit together…what I REALLY was was this facade of a person who SEEMED like she had zero emotion but who ugly cried alone when shit started rolling down hill all outta control-like. I was (and still am to an extent but am a work in progress) attaching myself to things/people/jobs who were so obviously not good for me just because I thought I could weather everything thrown my way. The inner-sanctum of my depression was messy — but I showed the world I was this bad-ass bitch who could take it. My two worlds didn’t mesh. Keeping up a persona of strength when everything inside you seems to be dying is EXHAUSTING! I slowly realized my attachment to people and things were the reason I was getting proverbially fucked over. So…I started caring less. When you start to detach, you eliminate about 90% of needless emotion (the rest is called “just being a girl”). This new mentality is going to come as quite an asset to my life. However, let’s not confuse this new mind-set with apathy…two different scenarios. Don’t get it twisted. I still have a heart.

For dating: Care less = get hurt less. The new rule to any potential relationship is this: you don’t jump, I don’t jump. I’m not going to put effort into caring for someone who needs to be convinced that the edge they’re standing on is safe if they’re with me. Relationships are nothing if they’re not a shot in the dark. If I tell you I like you and would like to date you…you either jump with me or jump the fuck away from me. My caring for you extends only as far as you’re willing to care for me. The end.

For my professional life: care less…just in general. Life is so God-damned short. I’ve worked my ass off to get to the level I am professionally — and I look back and wonder why. I’ve attached my identity to my career for more years than I should. I’ve sacrificed a LOT of happiness so I can climb the ladder for ‘the man.’ I’m 37 years old and have more professional flux in my life than ever before. So, I’m done. I will always put in solid effort for my career…but I will stop caring about my salary…about my material things…about my status. Because none of that matters. I don’t have a family of my own. I don’t have a relationship. I don’t have a lot of things that I want for emotional fulfillment, all because I’ve been so focussed on making that dollar. So fuck it. If I woke up tomorrow and had to start from ground zero, I’ll still hustle — but I won’t sacrifice the things that will fulfill me as a person just to achieve professional status. I’m giving zero fucks.

Lesson 2: There is no path…

In fact, the majority of life is macheting your way through a jungle of bamboo and gnarled trees just to get to a clearing. So I stopped believing in a path. I was raised to believe there was one…that there were many twists and turns and diversions, but there was always a paved road to where I was going. Fuck. All. That. Given the past two years, I can 100% attest to the fact that no such pavement exists…I’ve had to make my own roads. And I have no fucking clue where I’m going while chopping my way to the next clearing, but I’m making navigational history for me. Those paved roads may exist for people who get hand-outs and maps…I don’t have a map. My world has yet to be navigated. I’m the fucking Christopher Columbus (or Lewis and Clark, pick your explorer) of Regan’s new world.

In summation – this is the year I’m throwing shade at all dudes who think they MAY care but still want a foot out the door; who pretend to care because it is ‘good for now;’ who say they care but whose actions don’t follow suit; who are on the verge of caring but need a shove; who honestly don’t care and just want ass; and so on so forth. I’m over it. (I think I just pigeon-holed myself into permanent singldom). And as far as my career goes – I mean, I have to eat and have shelter and provide for the dogs, but aside from that, my career needs to enhance me as a person — not suck the life out of me into corporate hell.

And my ‘path’…..well…let’s just see how many jungles I’m going to have to hack my way through…I’m sure I’ll re-divert on many occasions.

Regan, I love you! You like dogs, I like cows. Get some dirt on your hands and some shit on your face through all your pain. Live is a journey of ups and downs; also dirt and shit.
You are still greatly Blessed and Highly Favored. You are imperfect but you have been forgiven. God ultimately is in control so you are blessed.